Category: Recipe

Special Mexican Food for Lent: Comida Mexicana para La Cuaresma

Ash
Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent, was on February 13, 2013.
The following article has been very popular as a reference since it was
first published on Mexico Cooks! in 2009. So many people want to know what we eat in Mexico when we're not eating meat! Enjoy…and buen provecho!

Tortitas de papa (potato croquettes, left) and frijoles negros (black beans, right) from the south of Mexico are ideal for a Lenten meal.

Catholic Mexicans observe la Cuaresma (Lent), the 40-day
(excluding Sundays) penitential season that precedes Easter, with
special prayers, vigils, and with extraordinary meatless meals cooked
only on Ash Wednesday and on the Fridays of Lent. Many Mexican
dishes–seafood, vegetable, and egg–are normally prepared without
meat, but some other meatless dishes are particular to Lent. Known as comida cuaresmeña, many of these delicious Lenten foods are little-known outside Mexico and some other parts of Latin America.

Many observant Catholics believe that the personal reflection and
meditation demanded by Lenten practices are more fruitful if the
individual refrains from heavy food indulgence and makes a promise to
abstain from other common habits such as eating candy, smoking
cigarettes, and drinking alcohol. On the other hand, my dear non-Catholic mother (may she rest in peace), once said–at a time of particular late-winter stress–that she was simply going to give up, for Lent.

Atole de grano, a Michoacán specialty made of water, fresh, tender corn and licorice-scented anís, is a perfect cena (supper) for Lenten Fridays.

Ash Wednesday, February 13, marked the beginning of Lent in 2013.
Shortly before, certain food specialties began to appear in local
markets. Vendors are currently offering very large dried shrimp for caldos (broths) and tortitas (croquettes), perfect heads of cauliflower for tortitas de coliflor (cauliflower croquettes), seasonal romeritos, and thick, dried slices of bolillo (small loaves of white bread) for capirotada (a kind of bread pudding).

This common Lenten preparation is romeritos en mole. Romeritos,
an acidic green succulent vegetable, is in season at this time of year.
Although it looks a little like rosemary, its taste is relatively sour,
more like verdolagas (purslane).

You'll usually see tortitas de camarón (dried shrimp croquettes) paired for a Friday comida (midday meal) with romeritos en mole, although they are sometimes bathed in a caldillo de jitomate (tomato broth) and served with sliced nopalitos (cactus paddles).

During
Lent, the price of fish and seafood in Mexico goes sky-high
due to the huge seasonal demand for meatless meals. These beautiful huachinangos (red snappers) come from Mexico's Pacific coast.

Tortita de calabacita (little squash fritter) from the sorely missed Restaurante Los Comensales in Morelia, Michoacán. Mexico Cooks! featured the restaurant (the name means 'The Diners') in October 2009. Less than a year after our interview with her, Señora
Catalina Aguirre Camacho, the owner of Los Comensales since 1980,
became too elderly and incapacitated to continue to operate her
wonderful restaurant. This dish is wonderful for a Lenten supper.

Chef Martín Rafael Mendizabal of La Trucha Alegre in Zitacuaro, Michoacán, prepared trucha deshuesada con agridulce de guayaba (boned trout with guava sweet and sour sauce) for the V Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional de Michoacán held in Morelia in December 2008. The dish would be ideal for an elegant Lenten dinner.

Capirotada
(Lenten bread pudding) is almost unknown outside Mexico. Simple to
prepare and absolutely delicious, it's hard to eat it sparingly if
you're trying to keep a Lenten abstinence!

Every family makes a slightly different version of capirotada: a pinch more of this, leave out that, add such-and-such. Mexico Cooks!
prefers to leave out the apricots and add dried pineapple. Make it
once and then tweak the recipe to your preference–but please do stick
with traditional ingredients.

CAPIROTADA

Ingredients
*4 bollilos, in 1" slices (small loaves of dense white bread)
5 stale tortillas
150 grams pecans
50 grams prunes
100 grams raisins
200 grams peanuts
100 grams dried apricots
1 large apple, peeled and sliced thin
100 grams grated Cotija cheese
Peel of one orange, two uses
*3 cones piloncillo (Mexican brown sugar)
Four 3" pieces of Mexican stick cinnamon
2 cloves
Butter
Salt

*If you don't have bolillo, substitute slices of very dense French bread. If you don't have piloncillo, substitute 1/2 cup tightly packed brown sugar.

A large metal or clay baking dish.

Preparation

Preheat the oven to 300°F.

Toast the bread and spread with butter. Slightly overlap the
tortillas in the bottom and along the sides of the baking dish to make a
base for the capirotada. Prepare a thin syrup by boiling the piloncillo in 2 1/2 cups of water with a few shreds of cinnamon sticks, 2/3 of the orange peel, the cloves, and a pinch of salt.

Place the layers of bread rounds in the baking dish so as to allow for their expansion as the capirotada
cooks. Lay down a layer of bread, then a layer of nuts, prunes,
raisins, peanuts and apricots. Continue until all the bread is layered
with the rest. For the final layer, sprinkle the capirotada
with the grated Cotija cheese and the remaining third of the orange peel
(grated). Add the syrup, moistening all the layers little by
little. Reserve a portion of the syrup to add to the capirotada in case it becomes dry during baking.

Bake uncovered until the capirotada is golden brown and the
syrup is absorbed. The bread will expand as it absorbs the syrup.
Remember to add the rest of the syrup if the top of the capirotada looks dry.

Cool the capirotada at room temperature. Do not cover until it is cool; even then, leave the top ajar.

Try very hard not to eat the entire pan of capirotada at one sitting!

A positive thought for the remainder of Lent: give up discouragement, be an optimist.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.

16 de February de 2013
Tamales, Tamales, and More Tamales in Mexico City

Tamales in the tamalera (the steamer) at Tamalería (tamales shop) Méndez, on the street at the corner of Av. Baja California and Av. Insurgentes, Colonia Condesa, Distrito Federal. You can see that the tamalera is divided into three sections. Each section can hold a different kind of tamal (that's the word for ONE of a group of tamales). In this case, the tamales at the bottom left of the photo are Oaxaqueños (Oaxaca-style). On the right of the divider are tamales rojos (with a red chile sauce) and tamales de mole (both with pork meat). The third section of the tamalera holds just-out-of-sight tamales verdes (with chicken, in green chile sauce) and tamales con rajas y queso (with cheese and strips of chile poblano).

Older than
an Aztec pyramid and fresh as this morning’s breakfast, a pot of newly-steamed
tamales whets Mexico City’s appetite like nothing else in town. Dating to pre-Hispanic times—most historians
say tamales date to the time before the Christian era—the tamales of New Spain (now
Mexico) were first documented in the Florentine Codex, a mid-16th century
research project crafted by Spanish Franciscan monk Fray Bernadino Sahagún.

Traditionally, tamales are made by hand, not by machine. At first, they seem to be exhaustingly labor-intensive and difficult. Just as with most wonderful food, once you learn the techniques and tricks of making the various styles, they're not so hard to prepare–and they are so worth the time and effort! Here, Carmen Titita Ramírez Degollado, owner of Mexico City's Restaurante El Bajío, preparaes masa cocida (cooked corn dough) for her special tamales pulacles from Papantla, Veracruz.

The
ancients of the New World believed that humankind was created from corn. Just as in pre-history, much of Mexico’s traditional and
still current cuisine is based on corn, and corn-based recipes are still
creating humankind. A daily ration of corn
tortillas, tacos, and tamales keeps us going strong in the Distrito Federal,
Mexico’s capital city of more than twenty million corn-craving stomachs. Tamales are created from dried corn
reconstituted with builder’s lime and water.
The corn is then ground and beaten with lard or other fat into a thick,
smooth masa (dough). Filled with sauce and a bit of meat or
vegetable, most tamales are wrapped in dried corn husks or banana leaves and steamed, to fill Mexico
City’s corn hunger and keep her hustling.

Tamal-to-be: cut the banana leaf to the size and shape of the tamal you're making, then lightly toast each leaf. On the banana leaf, place a layer of masa, a strip of hoja santa (acuyo) leaf, and a big spoonful or two of cooked, shredded chicken in a sauce of chile guajillo, onion, and garlic.

Mexico’s capital city makes it easy to buy tamales any time the craving
hits you. Every day of the week, nearly
five million riders pack the Metro (the city’s subway system) and are disgorged
into approximately 200 Metro stations.
At any given Metro stop, a passenger is likely to find a tamales vendor. Her huge stainless steel tamalera (tamales steamer) hisses heartily over a low flame until
the tamales are sold out. Each steamer
can hold as many as two hundred tamales, and the vendor may preside over two or
three or more of these vats.

Titita folds the tamal so that the banana leaf completely wraps the masa and filling.

Hungry
students on the way to and from classes, office workers with no time to eat
breakfast at home, construction workers looking for a mid-morning pick-me-up:
all line up at their favorite vendor’s spot on the sidewalk closest to a
Metro exit. Near the vibrant
Chilpancingo Metro station at the corner of Av. Insurgentes and Av. Baja California, Sra. María de los Ángeles Chávez Hernández sells tamales out of two huge pots. “Qué le doy?”
(‘What’ll you have?’) she raps out
without ceremony to every hungry comer.
The choices: rojo (with pork and spicy red chile); verde (with chicken and even spicier
green chile); rajas con queso (strips
of chile poblano with melting white
cheese); mole (a thick spicy sauce
with a hint of chocolate); some Oaxaca-style tamales wrapped in banana leaves; and
dulce (sweet, usually either
pineapple or strawberry). The stand
sells about 200 tamales a day. Sra.
Chávez’s father, Ángel Méndez Rocha, has been selling tamales on this corner for
more than 60 years. Even at age 80, he alternates
weeks at the stand with his brother, selling tamales by the hundreds.

The masa and filling are centered in the banana leaf. Titita is simultaneously pressing the masa toward the middle of the leaf and folding each end of the banana leaf toward the middle.

The pair of tamales in the center of the photo are filled with chicken and chile guajillo sauce. The tamal closest to the bottom is made with black beans crushed with dried avocado leaves. Avocado leaves give a delicious anise flavor and fragrance to the beans. These tamales are ready to be steamed in the tamalera.

The tamal de chile guajillo, fresh out of the tamalera and unwrapped on my plate.

A specialty breakfast, unique to Mexico City, is the guajolota: a steaming hot tamal, divested
of its corn husks and plopped into a split bolillo,
a dense bread roll. Folks from outside
Mexico City think this combo is crazy, but one of these hefty and delicious
carbohydrate bombs will easily keep your stomach filled until mid-afternoon,
when Mexico eats its main meal of the day. When I asked Sra. Chávez Hernández about the name of the sandwich, she laughed. “Nobody knows why this
sandwich is called guajolota—the word
means female turkey. But everybody wants
one!”

If you'd rather take your tamales home to eat them, Sra. Chávez of Tamalería Méndez or her employee, Sra. Lucina Montel, will gladly wrap them in paper and send them along in a bag.

For steaming tamales, the bottom portion of a tamalera is filled with water. Add a coin to the water and put the tamales vertically into the steamer, atop the perforated base that rests just above the water. When the water boils, the coin will rattle. When the rattle slows or stops, add more water.

Tamales can be a massive guajolota to eat on the street or the most delicate, upscale meal in a restaurant. These, prepared by chef Gerardo Vázquez Lugo of Restaurante Nicos, are a degustación (tasting) at the Escuela de Oficios Gastronómicos operated by online magazine Culinaria Mexicana, where chef Vázquez recently offered a workshop teaching the history, ingredients, and preparation of tamales. From left to right, the four tamales are: carnitas de pato en salsa de cítricos y chile chipotle (shredded duck confit in a citrus and chile chipotle sauce), tamal de tzotolbichay (with the herb chaya), tamal de mole negro (black mole),and tamal de frijol (beans).

Chef Gerardo Vázquez Lugo of Mexico City's Restaurante Nicos.

In
addition to being daily sustenance, tamales are a fiesta, a party.
In Mexico City and every other part of Mexico, Christmas isn’t Christmas
without tamales for the late-night family feasting on Christmas Eve. Gather the women of the family together, grab
the neighbors, and the preparation of tamales becomes a party called a tamalada. Mexico City chef Margarita Carrillo tells us,
“Mexican grandmothers from time immemorial say that the first ingredient for
great tamales is a good sense of humor.
Tamales like it when you sing while you prepare them, they love to hear a
little friendly gossip while you work, and if you make tamales in the good
company of your family and friends, they’re sure to turn out just the way you
want them: with fluffy, richly flavored corn dough on the outside and a delicious filling
on the inside.”

A small and elegant tamal de chocolate for dessert, prepared by Restaurante Nicos for the tamales workshop.

Señora Elia Rodríguez Bravo, specialty cook at the original Restaurante
El Bajío, strains masa cocida for tamales. She
gently shook a wooden spoon at me as she proclaimed, “You can’t make tamales
without putting your hands in the masa (corn
dough). Your hand knows what it
feels. Your hand will tell you when the masa is beaten smooth, when the tamales
are well-formed in their leaves, and when they have steamed long enough to be
ready to eat. Your hand knows!”

Señora María de los Ángeles Chávez Hernández (left) and her longtime employee Señora Lucina Montel (right) sell tamales at the street booth Tamalería Méndez seven days a week. They and Sra. Chávez's staff prepare hundreds of tamales every night, for sale the next day.

Let's go on a Mexico City tamales tour! Let Mexico Cooks! know when you're ready, and we'll be on our way.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.

9 de February de 2013
Colonia La Condesa Bakery Crawl–Un Paseo por las Panaderías de Colonia la Condesa

Pan de muertos (special bread for Day of the Dead), almost ready for the oven at Panadería Maque, Calle Ozululama 4, at the corner of Calle Citlatépetl, Colonia La Condesa.

Late in October, my baker-friend Jane suggested that in honor of Mexico's Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), we go poking around in bakeries. Pan de muerto is one of the traditional treats set out on altars to entice the spirits of the dead back for a visit with the living, and every bakery has its own recipe. As it happened, neither of us had a lot of time on the appointed day, so we made a list of eight spots to visit in Colonia La Condesa. We set off on foot with high hopes of finding sublime breads.

The family-size pan de muertos at Panadería Maque, wrapped in cellophane and ready to go home with you. We calculated that it would serve eight or more people, with a good-sized slice or more for each person. It cost just under 400 pesos.

Our first stop–we arranged our bakeries in a big oval starting with the one closest to Mexico Cooks! home and ending as near as possible to the same spot–was at Panadería Maque. Maque is a several-bakery/coffee shop chain open from 8AM breakfast to 10PM light supper in Col. Condesa. We were impressed by the big crowd at the outdoor and indoor tables, the long line waiting to be seated, and the bustling wait staff whizzing by with coffee, great-looking sandwiches, and lots of pan de muertos. We took some pictures and made a note to return for breakfast another morning when we both had more time.

Not on our list but in our path, at the corner of Calle Ozululama and Av. Amsterdam: Louis Robledo's Tout Chocolat, where the pan de muertos was made with chocolate. Jane bought one hot out of the oven to take home. She also bought each of us a delicious macarrón. They were very nearly as good as the ones I tried last spring in Paris.

Next on our list was Panadería La Artesa, at Alfonso Reyes 203, corner Calle Saltillo. Mexico Cooks!' wife often stops at La Artesa for baguettes and pan de agua, both of which are good but not spectacularly so. The owner noticed that both Jane and I had cameras with us; he started berating us with, "No photos! No photos! Put the cameras away!" If you want to put up with that kind of behavior, fine. Neither Jane nor I will be going back.

As we strolled along, we noticed this sign: MANDUCA. Recently opened at Calle Nuevo León 125-B, this terrific bakery was also not on our list–but what a find! Trendy but not precious, all its bread is baked on the premises.

Real bread! Manduca's delightful manager, Alejandra Miranda Medina, told us that the baker is German.

We couldn't leave; hunger suddenly overcame our need to step lively. Jane ordered a pan de muerto and coffee; I asked for one of the pretzel bread individual loaves and butter. The pretzel bread was marvelous, the heavily anise-flavored pan de muertos a little less so. The outside seating (there are also tables inside) was comfortable and pleasant.

Manduca's pan de muertos enticed us to stay, but Jane and I both prefer this bread with more orange flavor and a lighter touch of anise.

We continued to meander down Calle Nuevo León, looking for Panadería La Victoria, our next destination.

La Victoria, at Calle Nuevo León 50 (almost to the corner of Calle Laredo), bills itself as a Rioplatense (from the River Plate area that lies between Argentina and Uruguay) rotisserie and bakery. The chef is from Uruguay. These little sweet breads, called vigilantes (watchmen), are filled with a sweetened creamy cheese and topped with ate de membrillo (sweet quince paste). In Uruguay, these are said to be the favorite sweet bread of policemen–hence vigilantes.

Pan de muertos from La Victoria. These mini-breads (compare them with the ordinary size of the tongs at the right of the photo) are just the right size for two or three bites.

We spent a few minutes looking for Panadería Hackl (Calle Atlixco 100, between Calles Campeche and Michoacán, but realized distance and our rapidly disappearing time meant that we would have to come back another day.

We walked through Fresco by Diego (Fernando Montes de Oca 23, near the corner of Calle Tamaulipas), which offers some breads but is primarily a restaurant.

Our last stop was Pastelería Suiza, at Parque España 7 (between Calles Oaxaca and Sonora). It's a 70-year-old Mexico City institution with several sucursales (branches); this location is the original. Mention this bakery to almost anyone who loves pan dulce (sweet bread) in the Distrito Federal and the response will be a sigh of blissful longing.

On November 2, the only bread for sale at Pastelería Suiza was pan de muertos, and the only pan de muertos left, in several sizes, was split horizontally and stuffed with a huge schmear of nata (thick sweet cream). It looked like the Holy Grail of pan de muertos. I could not resist buying two individual-size panes de muertos.

You choose your bread, take it to the wrapping station, pick up your ticket, pay at the cashier, and then go back for your bread. The wrapping staff put the pan on a tray, then surrounded it with a cardboard collar.

Wrapped up in paper and string, the package has a come-hither look equal to the bread itself.

We could hardly wait–the Pastelería Suiza pan de muertos and a cup of hot tea would be our cena (supper) that night.

The verdict? The thick mound of nata was quite honestly an overkill of creamy sweetness. And the bread itself? The texture was wrong, more like a dry, crumbly, unpleasant muffin than like traditional pan de muertos. The bread had no flavor–not a drop of orange, not a drop of anise, nothing. It was a tremendous disappointment. Big sigh…but not blissful in the least.

So, you might ask: you walked all over Colonia La Condesa, you sniffed breads, you tasted breads, and nothing really satisfied Your Pickiness. What now?

A few days prior to Mexico's Día de los Muertos, my wife and I stopped at what is essentially our corner bakery, located at the corner of Av. Insurgentes and Av. Baja California, hard by the Metro station a couple of blocks from our house. Panificadora La Espiga (the Spike of Wheat bread maker) is large but ordinary, with not much to recommend it other than its proximity to us. A seasonal craving for pan de muertos had us by the innards, though, and we bought two small ones. They looked generic, with the traditional sprinkle of sugar: no nata, no chocolate, nothing special at all.

Pan de muertos, La Espiga.

When I tasted the pan de muertos, I was surprised. My exclamation was, "A poco!" (I don't believe it!) The texture was dense, slightly layered, and moist. The not-too-sweet flavor leaned toward the orange, with just a hint of anise. Who could have guessed! It was perfect. Jane and I had wandered far afield, spent time and money in all those uppity Condesa bakeries, and I had already tried the best bread of the bunch. Next year, Jane. I promise to take you to La Espiga first.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.

1 de December de 2012
9º Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional de Michoacán: Ninth Annual Festival of Traditional Michoacán Cooking

At the 9th Annual Festival of Traditional Michoacán Cooking (October 19-21, 2012), Mexico Cooks! photographed alcatraces (calla lilies), an ear of blue corn, and a basketful of hypomyces lactifluorum, known in English as lobster mushroom and in Spanish as oreja de puerco (pig's ear). During Michoacán's rainy season, the mushrooms grow wild and are harvested in the pine forests around Lake Pátzcuaro. The lilies grow in home gardens. Point of interest: Alcatraz, the ominous sounding name of the infamous California prison, simply means calla lily.

For the last six years, Mexico Cooks! has been a proud part of a uniquely Michoacán food festival. This Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional de Michoacán was the impetus and the paradigm for which in 2010 UNESCO awarded Mexico's food Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity status. Every year, we feature stories and photos about the food that makes this festival an inimitable part of Mexico's richness. Those stories are here: Fourth Annual Encuentro, Fifth Annual Encuentro, Sixth Annual Encuentro, Seventh Annual Encuentro, and Eighth Annual Encuentro.

A huge bunch of freshly cut flor de calabaza (squash flowers), used in a variety of Michoacán's regional dishes. Did you know that only the male flowers are cut for cooking? The female flowers are left to develop squash on the vines.

If asked about pre-Spanish conquest regional food, few people would think of
frogs. These great big frogs, for sale at Morelia's Mercado de
Independencia on the Sunday of the Encuentro, are caught around Lake Pátzcuaro and skinned for traditional preparations. Only the ancas de rana (frog legs) are eaten.

This year, rather than focus primarily on festival food, Mexico Cooks! wants to introduce you to some of the now-elderly masters of Michoacán's regional home cooking, women who have annually brought the best of their family kitchens to the fair, who have proudly participated in the festivals, and who have given their hands, hearts, and hearths to the rescue and preservation of Michoacán's ingredients and techniques.

Doña Paulita Alfaro Águilar lives in Nuevo San Juan Parangaricutiro, Michoacán. She has participated in all of the Encuentros to date and has long operated her own restaurant. We chatted for a while this year; she told me she thinks this might be her last Encuentro. She told me that she is over 85 years old now and that in the last few months, her health has begun to be less trustworthy. "I've had to go to doctors a lot lately. And I don't feel as strong as I used to. See, I have to walk with a cane." When it was time to say our farewells, she added, "If I don't see you again next year, tell everyone I'm glad to know that so many people tasted my food."

Doña Matilde Apolinar Hernández from Charapan, Michoacán. Doña Matilde, who is also over 85 years old, prepared atápakua de queso (cheese in an herb-based sauce), atápakua de charales (tiny whole fish in an herb-based sauce), churipo (Purépecha beef soup), and atápakua de frijol (beans in an herb-based sauce) as well as corundas (Michoacán-style unfilled tamales). She participated in the the 2012 competitions with atápakua verde (a green herb-based sauce).

Doña Celia Moncitar Pulido shows us with her expressive hands one of the four elements of the Purépecha kitchen altar. The mazorcas (dried ears of corn) and beans represent Mother Earth, who gives us our food. Purépecha cooking–and eating–depend as much on spiritual elements as on earthly elements.

Doña Amparo Cervantes, legendary cook from Tzurumútaro, Michoacán. The 2011 Encuentro named Doña Amparo one of a handful of official maestras of the annual festival. The small group of recognized maestras had won the Encuentro competitions so often–really, every year–that the organizing committee retired these fabulous cooks from competition. Nonetheless, at nearly 90, Doña Amparo continued to cook (but not compete) at the 2012 Encuentro. In addition to her participation at the Morelia event, she has also been an impetus and support for the cocina comunitaria (community kitchen) in Tzurumútaro, her hometown. A few of her specialties are mole with chicken and rice, pork with strips of chile poblano, corundas, and uchepos.

Doña Ana María Gutiérrez Águilar and her husband, don Espiridión Chávez Toral, who live in Calzontzin, in the municipality of Uruapan. At the 2012 Encuentro, I sat near the couple as we listened to a young and extremely talented woman sing a traditional Purépecha pirekua. When the song was over, Doña Ana María asked the singer who wrote the song. The singer mentioned a name. Doña Ana María stood up and said, "No señor! That song was written by my father, Valentín Gutiérrez Toral from Paricutín. He was too poor to afford to have his pirekuas registered and most of them have been stolen. I've sung them all my life, just as he taught them to me." The young singer invited Doña Ana María to the stage, where she sang her father's song a capella and wowed the crowd.

Doña Lupita works selling onions at Morelia's Mercado de Independencia. At more than 85 years old, she continues to accompany her slightly younger sister to work. When asked how much longer she hopes to be at the market, she smiled and merely shrugged. "Hasta que Dios me de licencia." ('As long as God lets me.')

These beautiful and highly respected old women will not be with us forever. It's far better to honor them while they are still with us than to carry flowers to them after they have gone.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.

17 de November de 2012
Taiwan Cuisine in Mexico City: Restaurante Rico Food in Colonia Del Valle
On your table at Rico Food when you sit down, house-made nibbles to open your appetite: sweetly pickled crunchy
carrots and cucumbers.

If you regularly read this website, you already know that Mexico Cooks! is always on the lookout for a really good Chinese restaurant in Mexico City. In March 2012, you read our report about the wonders of Restaurante Dalián. Dalián, whose owners hail from Beijing, features very satisfying food from mainland China.

A few months ago, friends mentioned a Chinese restaurant in their neighborhood. Our friends didn't know the restaurant's name, they weren't sure of the exact address, and they had never eaten there. But they said it must be good, because it was always packed with Asian people. And they said the restaurant was on Av. Coyoacán, not far from their home in Colonia Del Valle. A few days later, we took our car for its monthly outing and drove down Av. Coyoacán: there it is! Sure enough, Restaurante Rico Food was just half a block from División del Norte and mere minutes from our home.

Julio Lai, the delightful owner and culinary inspiration at Restaurante Rico Food. He was brought from Taiwan to cook in a restaurant in the city of Guanajuato, Mexico. Several years later, he went back to Taiwan with the intent to open his own restaurant in his home country. Once he realized how difficult his hometown competition would be, he came back to Mexico City to open Rico Food.

At Rico Food, dry-fried green beans with pork and chile are so delicious and everyone loves them so much that, depending on how many diners we have with us, we sometimes have to order two big platefuls. At this meal, we all dove into the green beans so fast that they almost disappeared before I got a photo.

The last time we visited Rico Food, this order of 20 freshly steamed pork dumplings served our table of five remarkably restrained eaters. Of course we also ordered several other dishes. The dumpling's dipping sauce is prepared prior to being brought to your table; it's the perfect flavor combination of soy sauce, ginger, black vinegar, and sesame oil.

Fileted delicate white fish, bean sprouts, scallions, and hot red chiles are the heart of this incredibly delicious Taiwanese dish. When I saw the oily liquid in the bowl, I thought I might not care for this. Boy, was I wrong!

Up until now, Mexico Cooks! has been fairly unfamiliar with even the most common specialities from Taiwan. This Taiwanese pork chop is a staple recipe from any restaurant or home menu. Given that these pork chops are relatively easy to make, you might want to try them at home. This recipe (courtesy of Allrecipes.com) will give you chops similar to the ones that Rico Food serves.

Taiwanese Pork Chops

Ingredients
- 4 (3/4 inch) thick bone-in pork chops
- 2 tablespoons soy sauce
- 1 tablespoon minced garlic
- 1 tablespoon sugar
- 1/2 tablespoon white wine
- 1/2 tablespoon Chinese five-spice powder
- vegetable oil
- vegetable oil for frying
Directions
1. With a sharp knife, make several small slits near
  the edges of the pork chops to keep them from curling when fried.
2. Into a large resealable plastic bag, add the soy
  sauce, garlic, sugar, white wine, and five-spice powder. Place chops
  into the bag, and close the seal tightly. Carefully massage the marinade
  into chops, coating well. Refrigerate at least 1 hour, turning the bag
  over every so often.
3. In a large skillet, heat enough vegetable oil to
  fill the skillet to a depth of about 1/2 inch. Remove chops from
  resealable bag without wiping off marinade. Lightly sprinkle cornstarch
  on both sides of the chops.
4. Carefully add chops to skillet; cook, turning once, until golden brown on both sides and cooked through.
Serves four.

Steamed white rice with special Taiwanese sauce accompanied our meal.

Our comida (Mexico's main meal of the day) a few weeks ago at Rico Food celebrated the birthday of one of our group and offered her and two of our other companions their first taste of the restaurant's wonderful dishes. Our friends Alejandro and Allyson recently returned from several years in China; owner Julio Lai was astonished to be able to speak to both of them in Mandarin Chinese. Long conversation, special off-menu treats, and an introduction to Julio's beautiful wife ensued. Alejandro helped me talk with Julio, who promptly adopted me as his 'mamá mexicana' I'm proud to say that my new son is an altogether superlative cook!

Last but very definitely not least, our dessert left all of us tremendously satisfied. Steamed sweet black sesame paste buns were the perfect ending, the final touch to a magical meal.

Exterior of Rico Food, Colonia Del Valle, Mexico City. The signage says
that Rico Food is a Chinese restaurant, but many of the specialties are
from Taiwan. Photo courtesy Alejandro Linares García.

Restaurante Rico Food
Av. Coyoacán 426
Col. Del Valle
Del. Benito Juárez
Mexico City
Tel. 5682-9220 or 5682-9989
Monday through Sunday, Noon until 10PM

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.
10 de November de 2012
What’s the Real Story on Mexico’s Mealtimes? Cena (Supper) at the End of Day.

The man who operates this cart in Mexico City's Centro Histórico (Historic Center) wheels his baked plátanos y camotes (bananas and sweet potatoes) around during the day. In residential areas, when downtown businesses are closed, you are most likely to hear the steam whistle's raucously high-pitched TWEEEEEEEEEEET during mid-to-late evening hours. Each plateful is either a roasted banana or a sweet potato dripping with sweetened condensed milk. Enlarge the photo to get a better look at the front of the vehicle, where the bananas and sweet potatoes are kept warm over the cart's firebox.

Cena (supper) in Mexico is a mixed bag. For an ordinary cena at home, it's a tiny meal: a cup of hot chocolate or hot milk, a pan dulce (sweet bread), or a quick taco made with what's left over from comida (the main meal of the day). Comida being the large meal that it usually is, cena is meant only to tide you over from just before bedtime till early the next morning.

If you're out partying till the wee hours, a few tacos al pastor (shepherd-style marinated pork tacos) on the street might be just the ticket for your cena. Note the whole pineapple at the top of the trompo (vertical spit). The pineapple cooks along with the meat–see the gas grate behind the cone of meat?–and the taquero (taco cook) tosses a few small sweet slices into your grill-warmed tortilla. Top with red or green salsa, a pinch of sea salt, and a shower of minced onion and cilantro for a taste of heaven.

Buñuelos are another favorite food for cena, either eaten at a cenaduría (supper spot) or purchased from a street vendor. Some people still make them at home–the dough is very similar to that of a wheat flour tortilla, stretched over the round bottom of a clay pot till thin. Traditionally, the dough is stretched over the maker's knee to achieve each buñuelo's large size and round shape! They are usually served either whole and dusted with granulated sugar or broken into pieces in a bowl and drizzled with piloncillo (brown sugar) syrup.

Conchas (pan dulce), reposted from the breakfast article: food for cena is often the same food we eat for desayuno.

Just as an aside: in addition to cena, some people in Mexico still partake of merienda, a light snack that can come sometime between comida and cena. This 'light snack' can be as simple as a couple of cookies and a cup of té de manzanilla (chamomile tea) or it can be a more complex offering similar to an English tea. Mexico Cooks! will leave the question of how to find stomach room for merienda up to you.

Not all food eaten for cena is sweet. Case in point: this Pátzcuaro, Michoacán specialty is atole de grano, a savory corn soup that's colored and flavored with anise.

The 1826 Restaurant at the Rosewood Hotel in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, is an enticing spot for cena whether it's a romantic evening for you and your main squeeze or whether you are supping with a group of friends.

In February, Mexico Cooks! and a group of friends attended a gala Valentine's Day cena at Restaurante Los Danzantes in Coyoacán, Mexico City. The dinner was presented by Cynthia Martínez and a team from Restaurante San Miguelito of Morelia, Michoacán.

If you are invited to a cena baile (dinner dance) or a cena de gala
(black tie dinner)at a restaurant, events center, or private home, your
hosts will pull out all the stops. Champagne, beautiful entradas (appetizers), a superb multi-course meal, snazzy dessert, alcoholic beverages and music are de rigeur.

Mexico Cooks! researches possibilities for an elegant cena at Restaurante JASO, Colonia Polanco, Mexico City. As my beloved wife (photo below) always says, "It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it."

Expect to gussy up in your elegant best when you are out for a special cena.

From street tacos to stilletos and tuxedos, cena in Mexico will keep you going till morning. Provecho!

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20 de October de 2012
What’s the Real Story on Mexico’s Mealtimes? It’s Time for Comida, Mexico’s Main Meal of the Day

In Mexico, a complete main meal will most often start with an entrada (appetizer). This dish of guacamole is meant to be scooped up with its garnish, crispy chicharrón (fried pork skin).

Mexico's main meal of the day is comida, which is eaten sometime between two and five o'clock in the afternoon. Prime time for comida is three o'clock; in many places all over the República, businesses still respect the old-time rule that closes business doors during mid-afternoon meal time. In fact, unless the business mentions that it observes horario corrido (continuous work day) you can assume that from two until at least four in the afternoon, its doors are closed to business. Its workday is from 10:00AM to 2:00PM and from 4:00PM to 8:00PM.

Crema de cilantro (cream of cilantro soup). The soup course, which can be a caldo (clear broth), a consomé (another kind of clear broth, usually chicken), or a crema (cream soup), comes after the entrada.

In cities and towns all over Mexico, you'll find fondas, comida económica, and comida corrida restaurants. All of these small, usually family-run restaurants specialize in full meals that stoke your furnace for the rest of your workday and beyond. In addition, in many cities there are high-end restaurants that specialize in comidas for professional and business lunches, others that are designed for the ladies-who-lunch trade, and still other, family-style restaurants that invite everyone from the oldest great-grandpa to the newest newborn to enjoy time together.

A variety of prepared salads for sale in a market. Sold by the kilo or portion of a kilo, these salads are meant to be taken home and eaten along with your comida.

Mexico's signature mole con pollo (mole with chicken) is popular for the platillo fuerte (main dish) at a comida, whether served at home or in a restaurant. Many regions of the country have special mole recipes; some, like those found in Puebla or Oaxaca, are very well known. Others, especially some from the state of Michoacán, are less well known but equally delicious.

These Jalisco-style albóndigas (meatballs) are traditional and typically served as a platillo fuerte for comida, along with their delicious sauce, a big helping of steamed white rice, a garnish of avocado, and a tall stack of tortillas.

Many soon-to-be-visitors to Mexico write to me saying something like this: "I want to plan for breakfast in the hotel and a meal in such-and-such a restaurant at lunchtime. Then we want to go for dinner at such-and-such restaurant." Unless you are a professional eater–and I know that some of you are!–it's difficult to fit all of that food into one day, given the times of day that meals are usually eaten here. If you're having breakfast at your hotel, many of the available dishes will look like those featured here last week. They're very, very filling. Just a few hours later, it's time for comida, an even more filling meal when eaten in a restaurant.

Carne de cerdo en salsa verde (pork in green sauce) is a typical home-style dish (in this instance, just being put into the Mexico Cooks! oven) often served for comida. Of course it is preceded by an appetizer, a soup, and perhaps a salad; it's accompanied by red or white rice, refried beans, and a stack of tortillas–and followed by dessert!

Lonche de pechuga de pollo (cold chicken breast sandwich, garnished with lettuce, tomato, and pickled chiles jalapeños). This kind of sandwich is neither lunch nor comida. Photo courtesy Big Sky Southern Sky.

"Lunch" as it is eaten in the United States or elsewhere does not exist in Mexico. You might see a restaurant sign reading "LONCHERÍA", but it refers to a kind of cold sandwich known as a 'lonche', not to a place where you can have lunch. A lonche can be eaten at any old time–between meals, instead of meals, before or after a movie, and so on.

This is a boiling pot of Michoacán carnitas–huge chunks of lean pork, boiled in freshly rendered lard until the pork is fork-tender with crisp, chewy outsides. Coarsely chopped and served by the platter, ready to stuff into hot-off-the-fire tortillas and top with minced onions, chopped cilantro, super-spicy salsa, a sprinkle of sea salt and a squeeze of lime, carnitas can be a rustic and delicious comida all on their own.

Gelatina is a common light dessert following a heavy comida.

On the other hand, you will almost always have room for a slice of old-fashioned creamy flan.

Next week, we finish our day of Mexico's meals with cena–supper!

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13 de October de 2012
What’s the Real Story on Mexico’s Mealtimes? First, Let’s Have Desayuno (Breakfast)

A classic quick breakfast in the USA, circa 1950s: cold unsweetened cereal, banana, milk, and sugar.

Several times a month, Mexico Cooks! receives vacation-time queries from folks in the United States about mealtimes and what's eaten when in Mexico. It can be challenging to plan a trip to any country, including Mexico, where mealtimes are different from what you might think of as 'normal'. This week and for the next two weeks here at Mexico Cooks!, you'll learn more about meals and mealtimes.

In Mexico, a huge variety of pan dulce (sweet bread) is available for breakfast. These are conchas (shells), so-called because of the design impressed into their sugared tops. Have your pan dulce with either hot chocolate, coffee, or a steaming cup of atole (a corn-based hot beverage).

It can be even more challenging for anyone raised in one frame of
reference to understand that breakfast isn't always about what you have always thought of as your first meal of the day. Many years ago, when I was first living in Mexico, the light bulb came on for me: breakfast food is whatever you happen to eat for breakfast. You know how leftover pizza straight from the refrigerator is a guilty breakfast for a lot of people in the States? A slice is really a perfectly adequate breakfast. Lots of Mexican breakfasts are just like that: whatever food is available at the moment.

The corunda is a regional tamal from Michoacán. This corunda, filled with cream cheese and topped with Mexican table cream and a sauce made of chile perón (a Michoacán-grown chile), makes a great desayuno when accompanied by a cup of hot cinnamon atole.

People in Mexico frequently eat two morning meals. The first is desayuno, which comes from the root word ayunar, to fast. Desayuno literally means "I un-fast" and is ordinarily eaten first thing in the morning, maybe before work while you are standing in the pre-dawn kitchen thinking about the coming day on the job or gobbled while you are hurrying the kids into their school uniforms. This breakfast consists of something quick and simple or a smear of yesterday's frijolitos refritos on a leftover tortilla, washed down with a glass of fresh orange juice; a pan dulce still hot from the corner bakery, accompanied by a cup of Nescafé (Mexico's ubiquitous instant coffee). It's just enough to help your brain kick into gear.

This Mexico Cooks! desayuno includes home-made calabaza en tacha bathed in hot milk plus a slice of pan relleno con chilacayote (bread filled with sweetened chilacayote squash paste), served with fresh juice or coffee.

At home, Mexico Cooks! occasionally prepares molletes, an old-time family favorite. I grill a bolillo (a dense-textured and crusty white bread roll), add a thick smear of chile-spiced refried beans, and top them with huevos volteados (over-easy eggs). With a fresh fruit accompaniment, this almuerzo is really stick-to-your-ribs.

Around 10.30 or eleven o'clock in the morning, when the stomach starts to require something more substantial to keep the body going, many people take a break for almuerzo. There really is no adequate word in English for this meal. It's not breakfast and it's not a snack. Almuerzo is typically a larger meal than desayuno. Workers on a construction job, for example, often stop work, build a little fire, and heat up yesterday's leftovers that they've brought along in a 'tupper'–the generic word for a covered plastic container. Warmed-up leftovers, a stack of tortillas, and a fresh-made pot of coffee keep the girders going up.

Another really hearty almuerzo: a plateful of enchiladas verdes con pollo deshebrado (enchiladas with shredded chicken in green sauce) topped with finely grated white cheese and minced onion, accompanied by a guarnición (side) of refried beans.

Here's another typical almuerzo in Mexico: chilaquiles verdes (fried tortilla strips simmered in green sauce), topped with grated white cheese and thinly sliced white onions, then crowned with huevos a gusto (eggs however you like them). Add a side of frijolitos refritos, a plate of ripe papaya, a warm-from-the-oven bolillo, either salsa or butter for the bread, and a great cappuchino, all served on a sunny terrace. Heaven…

Next week, next meal! We'll save your place at the table.

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6 de October de 2012
Capital City Market Comparisons: Paris–Yes, France!–and Mexico City

This past May, Mexico Cooks! traveled to Paris–yes, that Paris–with a specific mission: to compare markets in the French capital with markets in Mexico City, Mexico's capital. As for the photo above, well…you know what that is!

Prior to traveling to Paris, Mexico Cooks! had arranged a Parisian meeting over dinner (mais oui, what else!) with California foodie expat Randy Díaz. Randy invited several of his friends to join us and we had a marvelous evening at Le Casse Noix.

The lovely and tremendously knowledgeable French Market Maven (Marie Z Johnston) at the incomparable Graineterie du Marché, a small shop on the square occupied by the Marché d'Aligre, Paris. Loui Franke and the peripatetic Mr. Pidds, whose attention was grabbed by an operatic canary, were along as well.

One of Randy's friends at our dinner was the delightful Marie Z Johnston. She very generously offered to take me shopping at her favorite Paris market. Oh joy! My first thoughts were, what will I see that compares with the tianguis (Mexican street market) where I shop every week? And what will I see that I've never seen in Mexico?

The Mexican tianguis is simply a moveable market. In my Mexico City neighborhood, three separate tianguis occur every week. In Paris, we visited the Marché d'Aligre, which sets up in the same square six days a week and also has a brick-and-mortar building alongside the square. Many fruits and vegetables are the same in both Paris and Mexico City, but for the rest–vive la difference!

In Mexico, we are limited to one or at most two varieties of tomatoes. But there is really NO limit to the kinds of chiles we can buy! The plum tomatoes in the photo above are accompanied by (from the photo's far left, top shelf) tiny orange chile habanero, long thin green chile de árbol, fatter chile jalapeño, smaller and spicier chile serrano, and (at top right) yellow-orange chile manzano. The chile manzano, just a bit bigger than a golf ball, is nearly as hot as the habañero, considered by many to be the world's hottest chile. It is the only chile in the world with black seeds.

At the Marché d'Aligre, this whole box was filled with different kinds of tomatoes, including some heirloom varieties. But there wasn't a chile to be had.

At my tianguis: to the left, standard round Mexican rabanitos (radishes), which in Mexico are eaten out of hand or are thinly sliced and sprinkled as a condiment in certain kinds of hot soup. To the right, a bunch of huauzontle, a New World vegetable that looks just a little like broccoli. It's completely unknown in France and the rest of Europe.

At the Marché d'Aligre, a crate of tender and beautiful red and white French radishes–often eaten with a smear of butter and a sprinkle of salt.

Flor de calabaza (squash blossoms) are sold by the large bunch in Mexico. They can be cut up in soups, stuffed and fried, or used in several other ways. Trivia tidbit: only the male blossoms are cut and sold, the female blossoms are allowed to develop into a zucchini-like squash.

At the Marché d'Aligre, I had to ask what this was. Even after reading the sign, I was puzzled. It's wild asparagus! And behind the wild version, the ubiquitous thick, white French asparagus. 'Twas the season, and asparagus was everywhere. We only occasionally see fresh asparagus in Mexico, and when it is available it costs el ojo de la cara (the eye out of your face)-the Mexican version of "an arm and a leg".

Fruits in Mexico can be completely different from fruits in Paris. For example, on the top shelf of my neighborhood tianguis fruit stand are small cups of granada (pomegranate) seeds, already removed from the fruit and ready to eat with one of those little pink spoons. On the bottom row are large cups of cut up sandía (watermelon), fresh, sweet, already-peeled tunas (cactus fruit), and a mixed cup of mango, melón (cantaloupe), papaya, and fresas (strawberries).

At my tianguis, a typical display of (foreground) fresh Mexican papaya, bananas (top left), jícama, mangos, and peel-on tunas (bottom right).

In Paris, a number of Marché d'Aligre vendors offered Cavaillon melon, similar to cantaloupe but with a definite panache and a fame of its own. The green-striped melons look so beautiful in their bright-red tissue paper.

It was cherry season in France–look at these beauties! We sometimes see the black cherries in Mexico, but the yellow and red cherries on the right in the photo are unheard of here. In France, I bought a kilo of the addictive black cherries for 5€ (about $6.00USD). In Mexico, I recently saw them offered for 20 pesos (about $1.50USD) for a tiny bagful. But as I said: addictive. I had to buy some.

Unknown in France, considered a plague in the United States, and prized as a delicacy in Mexico: huitlacoche (corn fungus). It's sometimes called the Mexican truffle.

These are unknown in Mexico, but coeurs-de-boeuf (beef heart) tomatoes are much sought-after in France. What a color, what a shape, and what a flavor!

Peonies and primroses at the Marché d'Aligre. We do see primroses in Mexico, but peonies do not grow here.

Wild orchids grow on trees in Mexico's mountains–and I am not certain, but I suspect that there are none at all in Paris.

Isn't the diversity of our world wonderful? As I said before, vive la difference! Viva la diferencia! Long live our differences!

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29 de September de 2012
Pozole Moctezuma in Mexico City: Tell’em Mexico Cooks! Sent You

The block-long portion of Calle Moctezuma in Colonia Guerrero where the restaurant sits is just off Av. Reforma. It's right there in plain sight, but where? Mexico Cooks!' taxi driver missed it twice before he pulled up in front, and even then he couldn't believe we were anyplace we really wanted to be. There's no sign and no indication that the restaurant is anywhere on the block. Other restaurants, yes–but not the one you are looking for! The word 'pozole' next to the buzzer at Number 12 is your only clue that you are indeed in the right place.

Do the clandestine days of Prohibition appeal to you–those long-ago days when, if you wanted a snootful of booze runner's gin, you had to know somebody who knew somebody who knew where the gin joint was? "Joe sent me," was the joke of the era–knock three times, the little window in the door slid open, and if you were in the right place, knew the right people, and had the right look, you got in for a drink or two or three.

Something of those days continues to exist in Mexico City: not a gin joint, but a 65-year-old hidden and semi-secret restaurant very near the Centro Histórico. One of your capitalino friends will have been there; finding the address is still by word of mouth. Once you're pretty sure you're in the right place, buzz the doorbell marked 'pozole', and the door creaks open. Aha! Pozole estilo Guerrero–state of Guerrero style pozole–will soon be your comida (main meal of the day).

All of the best pozole starts with cabeza de puerco (a pig's head). Nothing else gives pozole its rich flavor and consistency.

If you've been following Mexico Cooks! for quite a while, you'll probably remember our 2008 article about Doña María Medina's pozole estilo Jalisco. Jalisco-style pozole is almost always red, colored and flavored by chile guajillo and usually prepared with dried red corn. Until a few weeks ago, Jalisco-style pozole was the only kind Mexico Cooks! had eaten. Not any more! We have now partaken of other pozole pleasures.

The caldo (soupy part) of Guerrero-style pozole is green, more often than not, and prepared in part with pepitas (squash seeds). The dried, nixtamalize-d (soaked with builder's lime and water) corn is white, not red. The flavor is much milder than that of Jalisco-style pozole, and the accompaniments are decidedly different.

Our group of comensales (diners)–in this instance, happy fellow pozole-slurpers and good friends. From left in the photo: Judith McKnight, photographers Sergio Mendoza Alarcón and Bertha Herrera, journalist Rubén Hernández, and journalist Nadia Luna. The empty chair is mine, and we were later joined by the delightful gastronomer Silvia Kurczyn.

If you are interested in preparing a delicious meal for your friends and family–especially good on a cool fall day, a chilly winter day, or on one of Mexico City's cool, rainy summer afternoons–pozole estilo Guerrero is just the ticket. There are many recipes available on the Internet, both in Spanish and English–not necessarily the exact family recipe used at Pozole Moctezuma, but delicious nonetheless.

Our group indulged in several appetizers: an entire plateful of very fine rolled tacos de chorizo (chorizo is a spicy pork sausage, in this case house-made) and laden with finely chopped onion and fresh cilantro–plus a squeeze of fresh limón), disappeared before I could snap its picture. I pulled the second appetizer plate over to me as soon as it arrived at table; this plate is filled with tostadas de frijoles refritos con chorizo y tomate (crispy tortillas with refried beans, the same chorizo used in the tacos, and thinly sliced tomatoes). I could have eaten all six tostadas, they were that delicious. The yellow plate in the background holds freshly made chicharrón (fried pork skin) to eat by itself or to add to the pozole.

Each of us ordered the medium-size pozole, more than enough for medium-size appetites or for folks who had already eaten several appetizers. Compare the size of the bowl with the good-size avocado behind it. Our bowlsful, replete with rich pork meat, nixtamal-ized corn, and Guerrero-green broth, arrived at table just as you see this one. Behind the bowl at left are a plate of chicharrón (rear), a plate of plain tostadas, and, to the right, the avocado.

My bowl of pozole after adding condiments. I know the green in the center looks like broccoli, but in reality it is pieces of avocado just spooned out of the skin. Also in the bowl are a sprinkle of oregano, a sprinkle of chile piquín, a spoonful each of minced onion and chile serrano, and a bit of chopped cilantro. On the back edge of the bowl (at twelve o'clock) is a piece of chicharrón gordo, with a creamy square of deep-fried pork meat still attached. Next to the chicharrón is a tostada smeared with thick crema (Mexican table cream), sprinkled with just a bit of the same chile piquín. In the bowl itself, just in front of the green avocado, is a slice of sardine. Its slightly fishy saltiness added the perfect je-ne-sais-quoi to the pozole. According to my compañeros de mesa (dining companions), pozole estilo Guerrero is often served with a sardine accompaniment. The various elements of the pozole represent all of the elements of the state, including the high plains, the jungle, and the coast.

This restaurant, with well over 65 years of history behind it, has been witness to countless events important to Mexico City and the country as a whole. Here, history has been made and history has been changed, young men propose to their girlfriends and politicians plan their campaigns. During one crucial comida, the guns of opposing political factions had to be checked at the door. Jerónimo Álvarez Garduño, the gallant great-grandson of the founder, is executive chef of the restaurant that got its start long before he was born. Its beginnings, in the kitchen and living room of his great-grandmother's upstairs apartment (Number 6), were hidden from public view for the security of the restaurant's clients. Álvarez Garduño works together with his parents, Yolanda Garduño and Guillermo Álvarez López, to ensure that the great Guerrero tradition of "jueves pozolero" (pozole Thursday) continues in Mexico City.

Things are not always what they seem: arroz con huevo estrellado (rice with sunny-side up fried egg) is a typically Mexican dish–served in an atypical form at Pozole Moctezuma. Here, it's dessert: arroz con leche topped with a syrupy peach half.

After comida, ask for café de olla–normally, a special Mexican coffee sweetened in the pot with piloncillo (raw brown sugar) and cinnamon. At Pozole Moctezuma, you will be served instead with a glass of anise liqueur, a few roasted coffee beans floating on top. The restaurant has never had a liquor license, but some alcoholic beverages by other names are available: a refrescada (mezcal with grapefruit soda) to start your meal, beer to go with your pozole, and this lovely café de olla to finish your meal. Soft drinks are also served.

Pozole Moctezuma is a true, rich taste of Mexico City's yesteryear. By all means, if you are visiting the city, go. You'll be so glad you did.

Pozole Moctezuma
Moctezuma #12 (Ring the bell to be admitted)
Colonia Guerrero
Distrito Federal
Monday through Saturday 2PM – 7PM
Pozole verde on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday
Reservations: 5526-7448

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22 de September de 2012

Category: Recipe

Ingredients

Directions